


Til I Have Wrest and Wrecked You

by FugalGear



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Richard bby, Sexual Content, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FugalGear/pseuds/FugalGear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bits and pieces from the same verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Have Your Innocence, Please

Richard knew it was wrong, unnatural, even. They were brothers, identical, and while Richard was weaker, much more timid than the elder twin, he still knew what was socially acceptable. They weren't.

It started when they were fourteen, their sexual relationship. It was a time where both of them started thinking about sex, wondering about their own bodies, and Richard knew that much was normal. They had been lying side-by-side in Jim's bed, as they often did, Richard reading Shakespeare idly as Jim pecked away at his laptop, perched upon his knee. Richard had been so emmersed in the play that he failed to notice when his brother stoped typing, not until he felt a smooth fingertip slide against his jaw. Richard turned to meet Jim's gaze, and in it a look he'd never seen before. It was mischevious and dangerous as Jim's expressions often were, but the boy read something else in that face, something the boy could only describe as hunger. Jim leaned in close, lips brushing against Richard's jaw as he spoke.

"Richie, you like doing things that make me happy, right? Like bringing me food when I'm busy, or rubbing my feet after a long day, right?"

Richard nodded. It felt nice to look after his brother, who often had little time to care for himself. He loved praise from people, and Jim praised him the most.

The other teen smiled, carefully placing his laptop to the side and maneuvering so that he was propped on a forearm beside Richard, one leg slighly hitched over his thigh. "I just thought about something that would make me very happy," the youth giggled, pressing his nose against his brother's cheek. Richard thought for a moment before realizing exactly what it was that he was feeling against his leg.

Jim had an erection. Richard was not unfamiliar with those, considering in the past year or so it had happened to him with relative frequency. Having an erection frightened him a bit, and he wasn't always quite sure what to do when it happened. He usually waited until it subsided, or tried his best to pleasure himself. Jim had cuddled up to him, and Richard could feel his brother hard, and suddenly the close proximity, the innocent cuddle he was so fond of, made Richard feel very uncomfortable. He squirmed slightly. Jim wasn't suggesting that they do something sexual, was he? Richard gulped down his sudden anxiety, willing to give Jim the benefit of the doubt.

"And what's that?"

Jim lowered his head next to his ear, and it was a long, tense pause before he whispered smoothly, "I would love it if you would wank me off, love."

Richard stiffened and Jim drew back, looking at him as if they'd just shared a secret before grinning and winking playfully. Richard stuttered, at a loss for words. Brothers didn't do that sort of thing! Certainly Jim was joking, he had to be. He didn't want to touch his brother like that--

Jim sat back on his haunches, still smiling conspiratorially at him. "Shh, it's fine. It won't be as scary as you think," he consoled, hands fiddling at his fly. Richard watched nervously as Jim undid the button and zipped downwards, pulling down his clothing and gradually exposing himself. Richard had seen him naked countless times, but had never seen Jim with an erect penis. The other boy lifted Richard's hand by the wrist, wrenching it from his solid grip on A Midsummer Night's Dream. He drew Richard's hand in closer until Richard's fingers brushed against the head of his member, and he made a pleasant noise. 

"See? Not that bad, is it?" Jim maneuvered again so that he was lying down, much like before. "Sit up, Rich," he ordered, and the timid twin obliged. Jim led Richard's hand to his cock again, wrapping the boy's fingers around it with a squeeze. 

"You've done this to yourself, right? It'll be easy."

"But Jim, I'm no good at touching myself! I'll be rubbish at this."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. At least try, sweetie."

So Richard did. He pumped roughly up and down his twin's cock, certain that it couldn't feel pleasurable, but the vulgar noises Jim was making seemed to note otherwise. This was wrong and disgusting, and Richard wanted to throw up, to stop, but he knew if he stopped Jim would be upset with him, and then he wouldn't get praise. Scrunching his eyes closed to avoid the sight of Jim wantonly mewling beneath him, Richard could barely hear his brother's voice over his screaming conscious.

"God, Richie, you're so wonderful. Fuck, I'm close. Be a dear and-- Christ, finish me off!"

He didn't know how to do anything differently, so Richard kept sliding his fist around his brother, feeling Jim cant his hips to meet his touches. It seemed to work. Jim grunted and his release coated Richard's hand. He held it out in front of him like it was on fire.

"Don't make that face, Richie," cooed Jim, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand and swiping it over his twin's fingers. He cleaned himself up and redid his fly, discarding the tissue.

Richard felt like he was going to cry. He drew his limbs into himself, feeling incredibly guilty for being so easily goaded into touching his brother like that. It was wrong, so filthy and wrong.

A pair of arms wrapped around him, and Richard felt Jim snuggle into him, embracing him tightly.

"Don't cry, Richard. You did a fantastic job. I'm proud of you for doing better than I expected, you know," he kissed Richard's forehead. "I'm so glad to have an amazing brother like you. I love you, Richie."

Richard grinned weakly, although his expression was sincere. Jim knew what he was doing and would never do anything to hurt him.

"I love you, too, Jim."


	2. Sixteen and Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twin's 16th birthday.

Jim had certainly gotten bolder after coaxing Richard into their first intimate experience together. Richard continued to sleep in the same bed with his twin, as he was often accustomed to, despite the fact that he had his own on the other side of the bedroom. He was afraid that Jim would take it the wrong way if he returned to his bed, and he by no means wanted to risk offending his brother. Staying, however, meant Jim's touches.

Jim's touches came in the middle of the night, and Richard would wake to his brother's hands on him, groping him, lips and tongue on his neck and chest. Richard lie still in the darkness as his brother mapped out the way his skin felt and tasted.

They came in public, too. Jim would press himself against Richard's back in restrooms, touch his crotch and thigh under the table at restaraunts. If he shied away, Jim said, "what's wrong, baby brother (baby, always baby even though they were only minutes apart) don't you love me?" And Richard would grin and bear it, because yes, he loved Jim very much.

It was a year before their next sexual encounter, and the twins were newly sixteen. Friends and family gathered in celebration, and Richard couldn't have been happier. Later in the afternoon, their parents surprised them with tickets to a film both boys had wanted to see.

Richard enjoyed the flick, although the ambush scene at the end was a bit too graphic for his tastes.

He had looked over to see Jim palming himself through his jeans.

When they arrived home, both twins collapsed happily on Jim's bed, the younger brother's mind filled with happy thoughts of the day's events and eagerness to crack into his new Edgar Allen Poe anthology. A wet kiss to his neck distracted him.

"God, the end of that film was hot," panted Jim, pulling himself flush against Richard, mouthing at his neck.

No sweat, thought Richard, they'd been through this before. Jim would touch him for a bit, kiss him. It was normal for them now, he could handle his brother better.

"Bit gorey, don't you think? It had a really violent end," commented Richard conversationally, as if his twin wasn't currently feeling him up.

"Well, there's one difference between you and I," replied Jim, and before Richard could react, the boy was straddling his legs, working at the fly of his trousers.

"What the hell are you doing?" stammered Richard, but his protest fell on deaf ears. Jim had pulled him out of his pants, stimulating him to full hardness. He couldn't deny that Jim's caresses were somewhat arousing, but Richard had never endeavored to do anything about it. Now Jim was pulling his erection out of his own pants, and Richard tried weakly to push him away.

"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetie?" Jim said, bucking down and sliding their cocks together. A moment later he was holding a bottle of lubricant and spreading the cold jelly between them.

Richard supposed that this was a natural progression, that he honestly expected Jim to get bored with the unreciprocated contact sooner than later. It still didn't stop him from resisting, even as Jim took them both into his hand and Richard keened unexpectedly.

"Jim, why are you doing this?" pleaded the teen with a worried expression. Jim merely smiled.

"Why wouldn't I? We're both feeling a bit randy, and you're always so good to me. It's our birthday, so I might as well treat us both to an orgasm."

Richard wanted to say, no, it was just Jim that was feeling randy, that it was Jim that was always so good to him, even if he was scary. That he was tired and didn't want an orgasm, that he could see the lust in his brother's eyes and he was afraid of it. 

Richard gulped and nodded, and as Jim continued rubbing them together his mind became blank, blocking out all signs that the pleasurable stimulus was Jim-- it was pleasurable, felt fantastic, felt good, but it was Jim's hand on him, cock creating friction, breath whispering praise in his ear.

"Don't be afraid, Richie. I'm here to protect you, make you feel good," and oh, Jim knew him so well. The compliments, the reassurance, Richard felt his mind join his body in surrendering to Jim. Richard's release mingled with Jim's. He wasn't sure who came first.

Jim sat back, gazing with a look of sated hunger down at the mess between them. He repeated the words that won his brother over with a soft tone:

"You're so beautiful, Richie."


	3. Peep Show

There had always been a big to-do about Christmas. A slew of relatives swarmed their home during the holiday season, bringing food and good tidings in abundance.

Richard liked to see his kin, even though in their large extended family, many were strangers. The holiday spirit thing was something the teen looked forward to at the end of each year. Traditions were safe, he always knew what to expect.

He didn't expect his parents to whip out the home videos. There were eight people in total in the room, sitting on the sofas and watching the tapes of Jim and Richard's early achievments. Richard, age seven, lead role in the school play. Jim, age thirteen, with his science-fair winning rocket. 

They were embarrassing. The friendly laughter at Richard's expense as the fourteen-year-old him on the screen screamed and ran away from their father, dressed in a clown suit and playing a prank, felt hostile. He shuffled in his seat, before standing in a jerky movement and excusing himself. Too many people, they made him anxious and nervous. It was suffocating.

The boy found himself in his bedroom closet, even though it housed mostly Jim's clothes. Richard huddled up in the small space, instantly feeling more secure, and his breaths evened out. The sixteen-year-old couldn't help but feel kind of silly-- Richard hadn't hid in the closet in years. He barely fit.

After he heard a few relatives leave, Richard was going to go back downstairs. Jim stormed in rather hastily instead, starting to undress. Was his brother changing clothes?

The answer became apparent as Richard continued to peer through the slits in the closet door. Jim had stripped completely and was reaching in his nightstand drawer for the bottle of lube.

Richard had seen him masterbate before-- the twin was hardly shy about it. Jim occassionally pulled himself out leisurely when they were alone on the couch, usually during a boring film. Well, boring to Jim at least. It didn't bother Richard, who was frankly glad that his brother was keeping his hands to himself.

But this-- this was pornographic. Jim splayed himself naked atop his bed, twisting and writhing as he pushed his hips up into a tight fist. The lithe, pale boy ran a hand down his chest and torso, reaching down to massage his testicles. Richard would have looked away, but Jim really seemed to be enjoying himself. Personally the younger twin found self-touch to be relatively unsatisfactory, and only masterbated as needed.

Jim was really getting into this. Richard grimaced when Jim worked himself open and began to finger himself-- the entire thing was just obscene. Jim didn't look like he was going to last much longer, and had even started to sweat. And then Richard heard it.

"God, Richie," panted Jim, "fuck."

A wave of stomach bile rose in Richard's throat. Him. Jim was getting off and thinking of him. Was it the tapes? Richard's eyes widened. They had gathered as a family to watch videos of them as children, and Jim had gotten so aroused from it that he snuck upstairs to pleasure himself to the thought of Richard.

He watched his brother come like that, rocking back and forth between his hands, Richard's name mixed with a slew of expletives. He spent a peaceful moment collapsed spread-eagle on top of the sheets before cleaning himself up. 

Richard wasn't sure what to think, especially as Jim casually redressed himself as if nothing had happened. No look of shame graced the elder boy's face, and Richard wondered how often this sort of thing happened. His head was swirling as he tried to process what he has just witnessed, and Richard didn't notice Jim stop in the door jamb as he exited their room.

"Did you enjoy the show, Richie?" Jim purred, and the boy could just picture the rotten smile that was plastered across his brother's face.


	4. Dead and Gone

The first time they fucked was the night of their parents' funeral. Richard and Jim's mother and father died in a car accident-- their lifeless bodies were pulled from the reckage.

The twins, eighteen years old, were alone. Their aunt and uncle moved into their home to take care of the brothers and help sort out all of the legal issues that needed to be sorted. Relatives and neighbors dropped by in a constant maelstrom of condolence cards and apologies, all asking if there was anything they could do.

Richard hated them. There was nothing their goodwill would accomplish, other than annoyance. It wouldn't reverse time, stop the accidental swerve that had collided two vehicles together. He didn't cry--he couldn't. Richard felt shocked, empty, forsaken by the only people who loved him selflessly. He never spoke to their visitors.

Jim cried. He screamed and swore when they were told the news, his eyes started to water when relatives came about. Richard never bought it. He'd seen Jim shed tears, real and fake, knew the reasons and emotions that caused both. The younger twin saw past the crocodile tears in his brother's eyes.

Life crept along, and Richard barely ate. Ma and Da were dead, but he didn't miss them, not really. They were gone, Richard attributed his emotional reaction to that of withdrawl. Something he always relied on, always needed, and now had to live without.

Jim seemed relieved, when no one was looking.

The funeral was scheduled, and that morning the twins dressed silently in black suits. Richard stared blankly as he went over his reflection in the mirror, while his twin smiled and made a few poses, obviously excited to get the chance to dress up. Richard wondered if Jim forgot what the ocassion was.

There were dozens of attendants that joined the procession that day, all to honor the newly deceased couple. The priest spoke, and Richard heard but did not listen. He clung tightly to Jim as the caskets were lowered down. The younger brother cried, but did not weep.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, and by the time Richard hung up his suit jacket, he was relieved to be back home. The boy lay on his back, on his own bed, staring vacantly at the textured ceiling. Crossing his arms over his stomach, Richard absently picked out shapes in the tiles.

The bed dipped next to him, and Jim's face filled his vision. His brother, now on top of him, gave him a kiss, worrying Richards lower lip. Richard, perfectly still, did not react.

"You looked so sad today, Rich. Moreso than you've been. You've been a statue since the accident--barely spoken to anyone, you know. But today..." Jim grinned, nuzzling his head against Richard's jaw. "You let me see how scared you really are, how afraid, how vulnerable. You held back your tears but I know how to read your eyes, baby brother, as I'm certain you can mine."

Jim pulled his head back to look squarely at Richard, arms holding up his frame, encasing his brother's arms. Richard, despite himself, made eye contact with Jim. The gaze he met was crazed and hungry and Richard had the fleeting sense that he should be afraid of it. He merely averted his eyes.

"I've never wanted you so bad," Jim continued, slowly beginning to work at Richard's shirt buttons. He leaned in and whispered, "you're perfect, Richard--so I'm going to fuck you."

He leaned back, as if to wait for a response from his twin. When he didn't receive one, Jim's predatory grin widened, and he continued to undress Richard until he was completely nude.

The younger twin kept staring at the ceiling. Richard made no attempt to reason with himself for letting this happen. If anything, he felt dead. Jim maneuvered his body like a puppet, pressing lavish kisses to his chest and thighs, before undressing himself. Richard had the sense that he could do nothing, even if he wanted to protest. Not like it mattered, not like anything fucking mattered. His eyes contorted closed, and Richard fought the urge to cry. He wouldn't feed Jim's fascination for seeing him vulnerable. 

The teenager felt a disconnect with his own body, like he was floating off to the giraffe-shaped spot on the ceiling at which he focused on. Jim had prepped him roughly, of this he was vaguely aware, and now his twin had penetrated him, was fucking him hard. It's not that bad, thought Richard, because deep down, he knew Jim was hurting, too. They were twins, after all. Richard counted Jim's thrusts into him as a means to pass the time until Jim came. He focused on the spots where bruises would surely form, and ignored Jim's words that Richard was so lovely when he was in anguish. When his twin was finished and the litany of possessive phrases died out, Jim slumped against Richard's side. After a moment spent regaining his breath, Jim pulled Richard in close.

"I'm sorry, Richie. I truly am. I miss them. I love you, I'm sorry that you're hurting," he whispered into his brother's neck. "It'll all get better, I promise."

Richard let a few of his tears go, and he hugged his brother back.


End file.
